


The Name of the Game

by Lucy_Claire



Series: Soul Mark'verse [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Identity Porn, Kinda, M/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 07:54:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10894992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy_Claire/pseuds/Lucy_Claire
Summary: Love was never going to be easy for Leonard McCoy, even in a world where fate literally spelled out your soulmate's name on your arm.Born with an incomplete Mark, it was impossible to guess who he was meant to end up with. And after his ex-wife finds her own soulmate, and death in space aboard the Enterprise becomes more inevitable, Leonard signs up to be matched by the Soulsearch System.He gets matched with a Jamie T around the same time Jim starts acting weird.Is it just his wishful thinking, or could his match really be Jim?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thevalesofanduin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevalesofanduin/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Soulmate AU_ & _Met Online_ for Laura!

As a man of science, Leonard McCoy didn’t make a habit of believing in things he couldn’t see. Taking into account all the bizarre shit he has seen since he had boarded the Enterprise, there might not have been much left for him to dismiss as mere fairytales.

Then there were Soulmates. That concept, like the pixie dust, mad tea parties and yellow brick roads, was something he would always safely tuck into the fabled fiction category. The concept that everyone would love to believe in — or already believed in as a form of pathetic escapism. 

It was a nice idea, when it didn’t rip your heart in two. Having that one person tailor-made for you from far before either of you were born, a predestined perfect romance to complete each other and live happily ever after in unwavering loyalty and security. It was an idea to sway anyone, even the most pessimistic among them.

It once swayed him. 

Unlike most other species in the United Federation of Planets, who went about their mating games and marriages like most living beings — in seasons, for contracts and out of necessity or all three, humans had evolved out of mating drives. Once that was out of their biological systems, they could choose when to get married and when to have children, or to do none at all. Some preferred to be alone or to just live out their days with a close friend. The confirmed bachelorhood and Boston marriages of old were pretty appealing ideas, whether or not they really were just friends co-existing or same-sex couples using friendship as an excuse.

Though, if he had to have a Soulmate, he would prefer for that person was his friend first.

Fuck. He was going off-topic. It must have been the Saurian brandy.

Leonard sat back and rubbed his hands over his clammy face. It was now a year into their five-year mission, and the fifth anniversary of his and Jocelyn’s disastrous divorce, the one he now had to avoid Earth for. 

The point of this whole tangent he's going off on was that, today, of all days, Jocelyn had sent him a message. A message telling him that she was engaged to some poor schmuck called Clay Treadway.

 _Clay Teadway._ What kind of a name was that?

He wiped the sweat on his shirt and slumped back in his seat, overseeing the empty sickbay out the doorway of his office. Nurse Chapel was somewhere else, probably following Spock around like a miserable puppydog, a habit she had taken to once his and Uhura’s awkward relationship had lost its steam. Which was good, considering that Uhura and Scotty made far, far more sense.

That, and Uhura may or may not have dumped him like a hot potato once she decided Scotty —  or _Monty_ — was the one. The capital- _O_ One, that is.

So, apart from humans being among the few warm-blooded species that chose their own mates, they weren’t exactly unique in the Soulmate department, as other species, like Romulans and -- hilariously enough -- Vulcans, also had that concept. That there would be the one person who fit them the most; not exactly made for them, but one that would suit them the most when they formed those mental-links. Two halves of a whole pointy-eared pain in the ass.

The point was, Soul Marks were a thing, and what a mighty shitty thing they were.

Upon birth, the majority of humans were born with a peculiar birthmark they had taken to dubbing Soul Marks. Soul Marks were taken to be either the exact name of your true love, or, if you were a particularly unlucky son of a bitch like Leonard was, the cosmic printer would run out of ink and you would be left with a half-formed mess where their name ought to have been.

Safe to say that instead of getting a clear JOCELYN he got nothing. Not a name, not even a nickname but a letter. A single letter _J_. But long after they married, after their relationship started going south, more markings started appearing on the inside of his wrist. Other letters. 

Once an _A_ solidified itself next to the _J_ , he knew for sure that Jocelyn wasn’t the one, and whatever lingering hope or belief he had had in Soulmates was finally gone. That was also when he found out that just because someone had your name on your wrist, that it didn’t make them yours.

Clay Treadway was a Leonard as well, if Jocelyn was to be believed. A Leonard Clayton Treadway. Uhura claimed to have had a MONTGOMERY, one she had actively searched for on Soulsearch, the leading matching website designed to connect people to their Soulmates, and gave up once she decided to pursue Spock. Scotty slamming right in the middle of their messy first foray into space didn’t help matters as. For the longest time, she thought _his_ name was Scott, rather than his last name. An easy mistake. Once she did find out his real name, she was still with Spock and didn’t want to take the risky chance of being with a guy she didn’t know, just because he had her name and she had his. Then they got to know each other and spent meals together, she would go to him in between frustrating fights with her significant automaton. 

He guessed it was all downhill from there. Something sparked between them, or she just decided dealing with a human man would always be far easier than dealing with an emotionally-constipated jackass.

Hell, look who was talking? Leonard himself had become a bit of an emotional-yet-emotionally closed-off jackass. 

He poured himself another glass and downed it. The burn wasn’t enough, so he poured himself yet another and then another until he had down half the bottle of brandy and become so drowsy he could feel his rational mind disconnecting from his irrational one.

Hours passed with him sitting like that, skimming through pictures in his personal computer’s memory box. Pictures of his wedding, of Joanna toddling, of their old dog Homer and finally, the newer ones that had been sent to him. Joanna, Jocelyn and Clay and their new cat, Pomona, in a Christmas card.

They looked so happy. Happier than they had ever been.

Maybe there was a point to this, that even if predestined completed lives was not a thing, but a placebo instead, it was better than nothing. Just believing each other to be the ones for each other would be enough to trick them into being happy. Right?

Drunk, and feeling a bit weepy, Leonard opened [Soulsearch.com](http://soulsearch.com) on his main browser and passed out.

 

* * *

 

Leonard was poked awake the next morning by Chapel. The hangover headache hit him like a mallet on a gong before full awareness of his surroundings did.

He was still in his office, still holding the bottle of brandy and his cheek was smushed bloodless and freezing cold from the metal surface of his desk. Chapel helped him sit upright, uncurled his fingers from the neck of the bottle and headed off to make him something to drink.

He rubbed his forehead with a sigh and blinking hard a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as if to wipe his blurry eyeballs with the insides of his lids until his sight focused on his screen.

[Soulsearch.com](http://soulsearch.com) was open on his computer, a cute, Valentine’s-themed website with two outlined, interlocking hearts as its logo, and the motto _Find Your Other Half!_ inscribed underneath the title in loopy handwriting.

He skimmed the details, contemplating whether or not this was a good idea until he spotted the message boards. 

Couple after couple after couple came back to this website to give it the good press it needs. That they had found each other through a match-up of names through the soul-search system. Some didn’t, but those were few. Mix-ups on the part of common names.

As he read through success story after story, something unwound within him. Chapel came and went with his painkiller and tea and he had barely noticed her.

He could try this. What harm could it do. He was in deep-space after all, so any relationship he could try with anyone that wasn’t his patients and subordinates would have to be long-distance anyway, why not reach for the ultimate kind of match?

Problem was, this one needed his Soul Mark. And all he had was half or even a third of it.

Could it have been a Jane? Jacqueline? Jasmine? Jade? 

Biting his lower lip, Leonard went through the FAQ and, luckily, found an option for those with incomplete or marred names. All he had to do was input his name, age and sexuality and he would be given the best matches, those who had his name and were yet to be matched. 

“Ah, fuck it.” Tossing the painkillers in his mouth and downing them with the tea, he set up a profile and let the system process the information as he got up and started his day.

 

—

 

One of these days, he was going to snap and throttle the next idiotic crew member who thought it was a good idea to antagonize an alien three times it’s size. Lt. Kevin Riley had nearly gotten his back broken that way and Jim…Jim still didn’t understand that after all this time, his life mattered more than anyone else’s. He was the captain. He needed to stop throwing himself in the middle of an issue just so he could solve it himself. Not only did it make it seem like he was underestimating his crew, not trusting them to handle shit themselves, but it made him seem borderline suicidal.

Fortunately, the little skirmish with the rat-like aliens of Phobetor VII only left Jim in need of some stitched on his cheek and side. Leonard would never admit it, but he could never get tired of treating Jim. It’s not like he wanted him to get hurt — far from it, as his long-suffering friend and doctor should, but…

God, he couldn’t put it to words. There was just something about holding his face as he stitched him up, cleaning his wounds and trading bitchy quips back and forth while Spock hovered like an overgrown bee, buzzing about the captain’s condition.

But in that moment, it was easy to ignore Spock, Riley’s groaning, the other patients’ fussing with Chapel, and the humming of the LED lights above the bed, the only thing he could focus on was the face he held in his hand as he carefully stitched up Jim’s bruised and wounded cheek. 

Most people got uglier the closer you got to them, but Jim somehow managed to stay just as good-looking as he was from afar. The exhaustion, flushing and bruising did more to amplify his looks than dull them, giving him an exciting, lively look to go with his messy dark blond hair, his full lips, the bottom of which was split, and his blue eyes.

There times back at the academy where he wondered if he might be a little in love with Jim. There had to be a reason he put up with all his absurd actions and habits and his tendency to get in trouble. Sure he brought some unneeded excitement into his life, gave him company, support and a shoulder to drunkenly cry on when the memories of his father and the divorce got to him.

It was nice to be cared for, and he knew he liked caring for people. Abrasive as he may be now, that was the point of becoming a doctor. So, it wasn’t the treatment aspect of their reckless-patient/anxious-doctor relationship that he never got tired of, it was the caring part.

Some days it was the most affection he could get, that he could ask for without bruising his own ego. 

Absent-mindedly, his thumb softly stroked the cheek it held as he finished up the stitch. Jim smiled a little, putting a strain on his split lip. “You distracted there, Bones?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“It’s only fair. You insult me all the time.”

Leonard snapped the thread, patting Jim’s cheek softly. “That’s because you are everything I call you.”

“How so?” Jim goaded, leaning forward, wagging his brows at him.

Okay, so maybe Leonard found Jim very attractive. But, so what? Most people did. Fucking aliens who had no business finding human configuration and features anything but inferior or disturbing still found him attractive, why shouldn’t he? It’s not like he’d ever act on it.

Though a part of him said that he would if he could.

He thought of that profile he set up on Soulsearch, of the incomplete name on his wrist and of Jim almost sad habit of falling in love faster than an anchor fell through water and how he had never had a decent relationship in his life. Maybe it was because he was passing the time until he found his one, or maybe he thought he would never find one, or didn’t entirely believe in it like Leonard did.

Come to think of it, he didn’t think he ever found out what the name was. Had never even thought to check all the times Jim was unconscious or when — or when he died. Some people, typically those who felt that Soul Marks were private or were widowers, wore cuffs to hide the names. Jim wore one such cuff, a thin silver band that always formed a soft bump under his command stripes.

Maybe his match had died, or maybe he just didn’t want to bother and suffer the same fate as his mother.

Jim snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Yoo-hoo! Bones! Where did you go?”

Leonard slapped Jim’s hand away and pointed in his finger, rendering Jim cross-eyed for a second. “Listen, if you so much as get yourself injured again in this month alone I will sedate you and tie to a bed where I can keep an eye on you and you can’t hurt yourself.”

Without missing a beat, Jim said, “Kinky.”

He smacked the back of Jim’s head. “Go! Get out of my sickbay, before you drive me nuts!”

Jim hopped off the bed, laughing. “You know you love me.”

That he did, but just how much? Nowadays it was hard to tell. But that might have been because he was feeling incredibly lonely lately.

As a matter of fact, Leonard didn’t know if he was even into men. Sure, this was the Twenty-Third Century and people were more open to all sorts, men, women, aliens, aliens who were neither a man or a woman or even reptilian. But he was old-fashioned, meaning he would rather bathe in grease than fuck an alien or enter one of those messy cheater’s relationships where one person got to sleep with others or even have full-on affairs while still calling themselves in a relationship.

No, he wanted just the one. Maybe not _the_ One, but one woman.

Or maybe not a woman.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me here on [**Tumblr**](http://lucyclairedelune.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to comment (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
> 
>  


	2. Chapter 2

The good thing about his name being not all-that common was that there were less people to wade through. The bad thing was he had gotten more than a two-hundred-and-fifty possible results. The gray-area thing was that he just had to go through the names that started with JA.

He scrolled down the list of names, speed-reading the preview of each profile rather than quick-searching or narrowing down by gender. He had found a Jasmine, a Jacinta, a Jane A., a Jane Q., a Jane B., and a Janet, but none of them struck him _it_. Whatever _it_ was.

Of its own accord, his hand stopped scrolling once it spied a _Jamie T_. 

There wasn’t much to Jamie’s profile. It seemed to be intentionally vague. A mention of being from the Midwest, a selection of favorite songs and books — mostly classical, but further down the profile he went, the more of a personal touch showed in the answers.

 

Age: _31, feel like I’m 80_

Sex: _If only_

Height: _6’0. 6’2 if you count in my hair_

Favorite -:

Color: _Blue. You know that dark but vivid kind of blue that’s the brightest part of the night sky? That kind of blue._

Song: _Fly Me to the Moon_ \- Sinatra. Though in my case it’s more float me to a dock because I am getting pretty antsy in this space tin-can.

Book: _The Little Prince._

Seeking: _Male or Female. Basically someone who will put up with my job schedule._

 

Leonard snorted. Looks like this guy was in the same boat as him — so to speak. 

He skimmed the rest of the profile. Most of it was written with the same tired sense of humor, a kindred sort of exhaustion but out of a job he loved, even if it did consume his entire life. 

Taking in a deep breath. Leonard clicked on Jamie’s profile, holding back the urge to bite his nails.

The connection went through, flashing a big green checkmark of _APPROVED!_

It gave him access to other parts of Jamie’s profile, his music playlist — all oldies and classical rock music — a few pictures, all a bit dim.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think this was one of those old-fashioned serial killer profiles. But even if it was, it would pretty hard to lure him out to the middle of nowhere to be murdered when he was already aboard this floating-tin-can-of-death. Maybe this guy was just self-conscious. After-all, not everyone can be as immune to insecurity like Spock or bursting with confidence like Jim.

Though, as his best friend, Leonard knew that a good sixty-percent of Jim’s confidence was projection. He had to give that impression to survive and then to gain respect as a captain.

He dropped his face in his hand and massaged the sides of his temple lightly. It seemed that no matter what, every thought always found its way back to Jim.

Maybe he should just go into this blind and damn it all if it did turn out to be an unsuccessful catfish killer (or whatever the fuck they called them back then).

He was stuck in space and no matter how close, he would never have Jim.

He clicked on the profile.

An envelope bursting with pink and red hearts popped up and displayed the congratulatory card of:

 

_Leonard H. has been officially matched with Jamie T.!_

_You may now make contact!_

 

He tried not to cringe at the display as he thought of how to introduce himself.

His fingertips hovered above the flat keyboard, itching to type the first thing on his mind. 

What was he supposed to say anyway? _Hi? There’s a one-in-ten chance you are my one true love, if that even is a real thing anymore?_

There was always _Hi, I am a cranky, middle-aged, divorcé who is as bitter as a lime and is only contacting you out of desperate loneliness because my ex finally found her quote-unquote soulmate? Did I mention I’m bitter and lonely?_

He automatically typed that out, emptying his mind slightly. He reread it once, snorting at the pathetic vibe of this whole ordeal. He needed a drink.

Reaching across the table for the bottle of brandy, his chair wheeled back and he slipped, slamming his hand on the desk last minute and slamming his bare elbow on the keyboard.

The computer beeped and another card appeared, bursting with white hearts.

MESSAGE SENT!

Oh…

“Well, fuck,” he breathed, uncorking the bottle and taking a long swig.

 

* * *

 

 

He was already too far into the bottle when he thought about sending a follow-up message explaining everything, and he was passing out when his last fleeting thoughts of consciousness thought about messaging any of the other candidates.

Chapel woke him again the next day, disappointedly tutting at him as she handed him the hangover cure again. “What’s up with you this week?”

“Jocelyn’s getting married. Let me get whatever this is out of my system the old-fashioned way before you start judging, okay?”

“Ah, drunken stupors, the age-old cure for heartaches.”

“More like heartburn,” he said as he sipped. “Trust me, I have no love left for Jocelyn.”

“Then why haven’t you tried looking for love somewhere else,” she said jokingly as she made her way out.

“I already have,” he grumbled, sneaking a glance at his computer, screen still lit on the SoulSearch. 

Chapel gagged, stopping in her place and whipping her head back to stare at him. “What? How? Where? Who?”

“Soulsearch, Soulsearch, Soulsearch, and I don’t know yet.” Leonard downed the rest of the cure with his nose pinched and pushed out of the chair. “And I have already fucked that up so don’t ask anymore questions.”

“How can you tell me not to ask after you drop a bombshell like that?”

“Don’t think you’re using that phrase correctly. Now, out. I need to shower.”

Chapel protested loudly as he herded her away from his office and headed for the showers.

Hopefully, a scalding hot shower could wash away his bad mood.

 

…

……

…………

 

It didn’t. He still felt like shit. Chapel’s watery coffee didn’t help either.

 

* * *

 

The day trudged on with few incidents. Chekov gave them all a minor heart attack when he popped in to ask an ‘innocent’ question about alien STDs. Death, disease and the possibility of losing all power and heating and freezing to death in the dark depths of space aside, alien STDs had to be the worst on the list, because _come on_.

“What did you fuck?” Leonard exhaled, crossing his arms and leaning back, putting as much subtle effort as he could into his Disappointed Doctor facade. Or in Chekov’s case it ought to be Disappointed Dad because Christ, he’s known this kid since he was a minor. The idea of him having sex with anything, especially sex with a separate, slimy species was just too much for him.

“Nothing!” Chekov denied, throwing his hands up. He spotted a small _ILEANA_ printed across the inside of the boy’s wrist.

“Alright then, _who_ did you fuck?”

Chekov swallowed, sweat already beading on his forehead.

Uncrossing his arms, he revealed a syringe. “Guess you won’t mind me taking some blood, just to check you’re just as clean as the last time I checked.”

He had almost gotten a good, firm hand on Chekov when Jim stuck his head in. “Hate to break up the fun, but unless it can’t wait, I’m going to need you.”

Jim looked exhausted, the stitches on his face from yesterday were making it difficult to flash his usual bright smile and his eyes weren’t as bright as they usually were.

Leonard dropped Chekov and followed Jim out without a word. 

“What did I miss?” He asked as they passed a group of whispering yeomen. 

“We got a distress signal a few hours back,” Jim said, his voice cracking tiredly. “A ship had lost its navigation system and couldn’t find its way back to its planet, or even the nearest Class-M planet. We spent all night looking for it, in the exact coordinates, in the vicinity, even in the nearest star system…”

He slowed, rubbing his hands up his face and into his hair, messing it up slightly. “By the time we found the ship…it turned out that the signal had been sent ages ago. The sound had taken too long to travel to anyone who could help.”

He was a bit taken aback. While it was expected that some missions wouldn’t pan out — he knew pretty well as a doctor that you couldn’t save everyone — but that didn’t make the bleak failure of it all any better. It seemed worse now since they had never had a chance of saving them anyway.

And he had been passed-out drunk the whole time. He should have been there, on-call if not on deck. 

Putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder, he thumbed the gold material of his shirt. “Hey, there was nothing you could do.”

Smirking with the unmarred side of his face, Jim set his hand atop Leonard’s. “I know, that’s just it. Knowing not only are you too late, but you never had a chance anyway.”

“Are we still talking about the ancient ship?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Jim’s mood lightened slightly. “So, guess you owe me a lunch date. You’re not allowed to weasel out today.”

“When have I ever done that? We eat lunch together several times a week.”

“Yeah, but you seem to be kind of avoiding me lately.”

If he was being honest, yes, he has been kind of avoiding Jim lately. But he was avoiding everyone he could, with Chapel being the hardest to hide from.

Moving his hand to the other shoulder, he wrapped his arm around Jim and rested half his weight against him as they moved. “Come on, I’ll let you eat whatever heart-clogging monstrosity you’re craving today.”

“Oh, you’ll let me, will you?” Jim laughed. “I swear, sometimes I feel like we’ve been married for six years.”

Leonard choked on his tongue. “Yeah, it does.”

They headed to the mess hall, each mostly distracted, Jim reeling from the stress of his job and Leonard from the growing whirlwind of emotions that’s been whirlpool-ing its way through his blood and whatever alcohol lingered within it.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t that he never paid attention to other people, it’s that he didn’t want to know anymore than he already did from their medical records. But sometimes, when he caught up with the news, and even if he already knew about it, it baffled him.

Jim seemed to be taking a break from Spock, and everyone who wasn’t Leonard today, as their usual small group was split up into two other tables. That didn’t stop him from filling him in, opening his eyes to the sheer level of soap opera drama that was happening in his own ship.

To avoid Spock, Uhura and Scotty sat with Sulu and Jaylah, who was herself reportedly playing musical chairs all week-long to avoid Chekov’s advances without having to kick his face in. Spock, equally exhausted as Jim, only showing that through the few stray hairs of his bowl cut, had been joined by Chapel, who must have been leaving the Sick Bay to the other nurses whenever he left for a meal so she could crash in on Spock’s off-clock time.

“How long has this been going on?” he asked, green jello half-lifted to his mouth as he watched Chapel toss her head back and laugh at something Spock said. 

“Oh, about two months,” Jim said, humor seeping back into his voice as he took out his communicator. “Seems like she’s had her eye on him since the academy, but Uhura beat her to him.”

“Unbelievable. What do they see in him?”

Jim was about to answer when his eyes grew wide and he held back a loud snort.

“What?”

Jim scrolled down his communicator’s screen, pressing his lips together.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jim said. “Scotty just sent me this new joke that’s been circulating around Starfleet. You wouldn’t be interested.”

Suspicious, he prodded Jim with his fork. “Why not? Think I don’t need a good laugh here and there?”

“Oh, believe me, you do,” Jim agreed. “Unfortunately, you have no sense of humor.”

“I have no — come here!” He hooked his arm around Jim’s neck and dragged him along the seat of their table, trapping him in a light headlock as he mussed his knuckles over Jim’s hair. 

Jim laughed, struggling feebly as he batted at Leonard’s hands. “Enough! You’re giving me a bald spot.”

Leonard released him, satisfied. “There! Made you laugh.”

Jim laughed harder, shaking his head at him, the sad weight in his eyes had lifted a bit more as they looked back at him with a soft, warm kind of fondness. It was a kind of simple love Leonard thought he would never thought he would see directed.

Did Jim always look at him like that? Was that another thing he never noticed or was it recent?

Maybe it was just his puffy eyes and wounded face making a simple smile come off as something else. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

Leonard was brought back to Earth when he heard Jim’s communicator slap shut. He set it down and went back to work on his sesame oil-ridden Chinese food.

“So,” Jim said casually. “What’s up with you?”

“Remember what I said about Jocelyn and I’s divorce?”

“Which part? I’ve heard a lot of stories over the years.”

He gave him a cutting look. “She had my name, I didn’t have hers. That was one of the biggest cracks that shattered our cracked window of a marriage.”

“Wow, you’re poetic today.”

“Jim.”

“Sorry, continue.”

“Anyway…” Leonard continued, trailing off awkwardly, glancing at the half-formed name on the inside of his wrist, the in-progress stamp of JA now had an extra mark, a single line that could have been the start of an N or M,maybe even an L or T, though he found it unlikely, considering his response Matches. “Jocelyn’s getting married.”

Jim stopped chewing, fixing him up a bit. “Is this an ‘I’m so sorry’ occasion or a ‘Good riddance’ occasion?”

“I said good riddance nearly a decade ago. But aside from the whole ‘a strange man is now going to raise my daughter’ part, there’s just. Just…” He thought of the disastrous message he had sent Jamie T. He must have taken one look at it and laughed. Laughed his way over to the Block button.

God, he was a mess.

“The guy she’s marrying, his birth name is Leonard, he goes by his middle name, but he has her name. The fated Leonard and Jocelyn we never were.”

Jim’s eyes grew even wider now. “Wow, didn’t think your name was common enough for that to happen.”

“It’s not as common as yours, but it’s still afloat.”

Jim continued staring for a bit, then slowly, his eyes moved to his communicator. “So, what are you gonna do?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing I can or want to do. She’s moving on, she’s found her one true sucker who’ll put up with her bullshit because their names match.” He leant back in his seat, surveying the hall, of the groups of friends, the pairs of couples, the attempts to flirt, to get noticed, to start things up and to move on and he suddenly felt very stuck.

“Do you think that it means anything?” Jim asked suddenly. “Does it actually guarantee that kind of instant connection, that love you always wanted from someone? Or is it a placebo, it happens because you both fool yourselves into it?”

“I don’t know, Jim,” he admitted, feeling very tried all of the sudden. “Does the fact that my relationship with her fell apart have anything to do with the fact that we were Mistaken Matches or was that just us to begin with? Was this fated because I was the wrong Leonard? Or would it still end the same if I did have her name?”

“The wrong Leonard,” Jim said wondrously. “I don’t know, Bones. Why would we be born with these Soul Marks at all if they weren’t meant to solve a purpose? They’re predestined, written out on us, what’s the point of going through all that trouble if it isn’t a guarantee of something?”

“Do you any perfect matches who were happy and stayed happy? I can only think of a handful.”

They got very quiet again. They remained that way, pushing food around plates and looking everywhere but at each other until lunch was up.

On their way out, before they parted to different ends of the ship, Leonard felt himself reaching out and pulling Jim into a hug.

They parted in silence. Before he left his sight, Jim took out his communicator again and checked it with a disappointed look.

 

—

 

When he was finally done with today’s shift of stupidity — someone tried boiling pasta in the chemist’s lab, how did this ship function — Leonard slumped back in his office, exhausted and peeling his gloves off his fingers.

He noticed his communicator on his desk, forgotten and nearly dead, but a green dot signifying a missed call or a message blinked on its surface.

Expecting another infuriating picture from Jocelyn, he instead found a notification message, telling him that Jamie T. had responded. 

“Holy shit.” He scrambled for his keyboard, opening up his Soulsearch profile to find that Jamie had in fact responded.

 

 ** _From:_** Jamie T

 

_What a way to make an impression, because, man, did I really need that laugh today. Thanks for that, really._

_I can’t say how surprised I was to see somebody actually responding to me today. I’ve had this account for ages now, didn’t think anyone would answer me. Either because my luck is usually pretty shitty or because Leonard has always struck me as an older man’s name, one already married with kids my age or as a middle name tucked in there to honor said older man._

_Or not, could be a cultural difference. The Brits still name their sons Alfred and Wilbur and the French name boys Josselin and Dominique._

_You know how that opens a whole other can worms? The Mistaken Matches thing, because people think it’s funny to name a little girl Brogan or Carter?_

_Don’t give little girls grown men’s names, please. That’s what German Shepherds are for._

_I’m rambling, aren’t I?_

_Sorry, it’s been a hard day at the office._

_The floaty, uncharted office that is my job. Or would space be the building and the ship be the office?_

_Fuck, I’m tired._

_Anyway, how about you, Mr. Bitter Lime? Said you were a divorcé, was that Mistaken Matches?_

_Wonder how many Jameses you’ve gone through by now._

 

Leonard felt himself smiling a little. So, he hadn’t completely fucked this up.

Seemed James was on another exploration vessel, and itching to get off. He must have not been on his ship long if he hadn’t accepted his fate aboard it with numbness. 

Relaxing, he replied.

 

 ** _From:_** Leo H. 

 

_Yeah, it was Mistaken Matches, but our marriage was falling apart long before we figured that out anyway. I haven’t gone through any Jameses, so, you seem to be the only one with my name so far._

_You’ll be happy to know that my daughter has a perfectly reasonable and traditional girl’s name, even if she is named after my mother-in-law._

_So, you’re in space, too. If it’s too early in our correspondence to ask which ship or vessel you’re on? Or if you’re too worried about me turning out to be some serial killer and finding you then never mind._

_What do you do though?_

_And what led you here?_

 

It wasn’t long before he got his reply.

 

 ** _From:_** Jamie T.

 

_I’m sorry to hear that. But good thing that we correspond, right? Less room for confusion. I once knew a guy whose Soul Mark was Katherine and the amount of Kates, Katies and Kathys he bounced from was enough to discourage anyone, but he seems to have finally found his Katherine, who goes by Rini._

_And if you were a serial killer, how would you reach me in space? Were you possessed by the wandering alien ghost of Jack the Ripper that possesses unsuspecting space-voyager bodies to commit his dastardly deeds?_

_How old is your daughter? I feel like I haven’t seen a child in ages to the point that just seeing them in a holo-vid stuns me, like, oh, those exist._

_What are the odds that we both came out of Starfleet? Yeah, if you don’t mind I’d like to keep some information to myself, especially about my ship, because civilian or not, this job does bring expectations and assumptions._

_I head my own division and boy, are they messy. But they’re efficient, so that’s all that matters._

_Honestly, what landed me here is a near-death experience, opened my eyes to a few things. That and how I’m worried I’m going to die without ever getting the chance to be loved and be in love. Figured I’d give this site a chance, what have I got to lose?_

 

The tight knot that tied itself in his chest with Jocelyn’s news lessened a little. 

Maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all.

He liked this guy already.

He just hoped that, by the time he could fall in love with this guy, another letter didn’t form on his arm, making him another Mistaken Match.

He hoped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me here on [**Tumblr**](http://lucyclairedelune.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  


	3. Chapter 3

Over the weeks, Jamie and Leonard corresponded sporadically thanks to both their schedules and the random instances.

He saw Jim less and less as well, except for when he was part of a landing party on the Class-Monstrosity planet of the week.

Jim always seemed to checking his communicator in those times. Leonard wondered what he was anticipating, or even keeping from him. Was his mother ill? Was he awaiting the news on her health? Why wouldn’t he tell him if that were the case?

Maybe he was overthinking it. 

“You alright?” he asked, two months into correspondence, checking the mark on his wrist. The line after _JA_ had, to his relief, drawn an _M_. Two steps closer to being James.

Jim snapped his communicator shut again, running an anxious hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

He did look pretty haggard, especially after today’s run-in with the pirates using this dwarf planet as their treasure island. 

“Is this just about today, you’ve been a bit on-edge the past few days.”

Jim wrapped his hand around his right wrist, pressing his thumb to the inside, right above the spot his mark would be if his sleeves were shorter. “It’s been a tough couple of days.”

“Tell me about it, we both need a nice break.”

“Wanna come over and unwind today? There’s movie I’ve been wanting to watch for ages.”

He thought about his attempts to contact Jamie this week, he wondered if a reply from either of them got swallowed up in Soulsearch’s system. He wanted to message him again but even after a bunch of intrusive messages, they weren’t in the deeply personal stage yet where he could afford to come off as clingy.

Jim never seemed to care about that, considering how he clung to him like a limpet from their first day at Starfleet, and he was grateful for that.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Jim flashed him a quick, tentative smile. A flash of suspicion moved over his features before he shook his head, dismissing whatever thought he had. It was like he wanted to ask him something, maybe even tell him, but decided against it.

It kind of drove him mad, but he didn’t want to pry. Not unless he had a good idea on what it was.

At least, he could save the prying for later, when they were off the clock.

Scotty beamed them back aboard the ship and they parted ways, Jim taking out his phone yet again and Leonard making a beeline straight for his office computer. 

He had a message from Jamie. A brief one.

 

_I think we’re at this stage of our relationship where we might be the real deal. Or Match._

_I’ve been thinking the past few days, about common names and coincidences, but we all know coincidences are just what we call the inevitable or the unthought of, right?_

_Anyway, there are twelve Jameses aboard my ship, and two Leonards. The other three are Leonardos. I sometimes used to wonder if it could be one of them, would be perfect really, to meet that one person you’re to spend the rest of your life with in the final frontier._

_Actually, I wondered a lot about just the one. But I’m dead certain he doesn’t swing my way, and he seemed pretty into a crew member we dropped off at a colony a year ago, who was as pretty and as blonde as you could get._

_The point is, I’m on the Enterprise. Are you?_

 

Leonard’s heart stopped for just a beat. He was on the Enterprise.

He instantly accessed his records of every person on this ship, searching through the glossary of names he, Chapel and M’Benga attended to.

All in all, there fourteen James and Jamies combined. 

A message bubble from Jim appeared on the corner of his screen: _You coming over, right? I didn’t get stood up, did I?_

Damn, he had almost forgotten about his James.

Not his, though. This one, the one that could be any of the others on this list, could be his James.

He scrambled to reply to both respectively with _‘I am’_ and _‘On my way’_.

 _I am on my way_ was sent straight to Jamie rather than Jim.

Almost instantly he replied but his message was blocked out by Jim messaging again.

At a loss with both, he didn’t register either reply and picked his communicator up to bolt out of the Sick Bay.

Leonard ran all the way to the halfway point of the ship.

Jamie’s reply was _We need to meet now!_ And Jim’s was Bones, where are you, I think I’m having a crisis!

He remained stuck at the crossroads. Which did he go to now?

If he didn’t go to Jamie he could forever blow his chances at a good first impression and a good start to a real relationship, and if he didn’t go to Jim, who rarely opened up, who’s been on edge for weeks, keeping something he has been anticipating on his phone, and needed him now, he would never forgive himself.

The last time he was late, Jim died of radiation, without him there.

He turned and ran towards Jim’s quarters.

 

* * *

 

 

Jim was already out of his uniform and in jeans and a sweater by the time he had arrived. He jumped up and hugged Leonard tightly, “Oh, Thank God?”

He automatically hugged back, holding Jim close. “What is it? What happened? Is your mother fine?”

Jim pulled back, frowning slightly. “What? She’s fine.”

“Then what’s going on? What’s the crisis?”

“Well, it’s not a real crisis, it’s more of a personal crisis I needed your insight on.”

Leonard shoved him lightly. “Good God, man, you almost gave me a heart attack. Use our words carefully next time.”

“That’s what I need your help in, or help figuring out.”

“Well, out with it.”

“Impatient much?”

“You made me run all the way here when this could have waited.”

“Oh, did you have a date?” Jim said sarcastically.

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Jim’s expression shattered like glass, cocky resolve shattering into shock and uncertainty. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Then why did you come?”

“I just told you! I thought you needed me!”

Jim paused, opening his mouth to say something but not knowing what yet. He closed it again and shook his head, glancing at his phone. “Never mind then, guess I thought ahead of myself.”

“What do you mean? What did you want to tell me anyway?”

“Nothing. Go. Go find your date.”

Concern reignited within him. He squeezed Jim’s arm, getting his eyes to meet his for the first time in what felt like ages. “You sure you don’t want to tell me?”

“It can wait. Your date can’t.”

Leonard nodded, giving his arm one last squeeze before heading for the door. “You know, if you need me, I’ll still drop everything and come back running again.”

“I know you will, Bones.”

He stopped, looking over his shoulder at Jim, who stared at his communicator, waiting, like Leonard had kept Jamie waiting.

There were thirteen other options on this ship alone. He was on this ship, just within reach, so close but not as close as Jim.

No one would be as close to him as Jim, and even if this guy was the one he was dealt by fate, he wouldn’t be the one he wanted.

He had made up his mind once, he was making it up again.

There would always be just the one James in his life, even if he wasn’t his Match.

Taking out his phone, he sent Jamie an apology.

Jim’s communicator beeped instantly, he flipped it open and sighed sadly. 

Leonard’s heart pounded once so hard it was like a fist punched the inside of his ribs, stopping him dead in his tracks, the beat echoing within his mind and body. Hand on the doorknob as he listened to Jim tap out a reply and felt his own device buzz.

_No._

It wasn’t that easy.

Nothing in his life went smoothly, that perfectly, this couldn’t be it.

It was a coincidence.

Carefully, he sent Jamie ‘What was it you said about coincidences?’ 

“Just what’s inevitable, or what you didn’t think of,” Jim said under his breath as he typed out the exact same reply.

Inevitable. 

Letting go of the door and turning back, going straight to Jim as if he were being guided by a magnet, Leonard stopped before him and stared. Stared like it was the first time seeing him in years, like he needed to check for all signs of detail to make sure that this wasn’t a dream, that this was real and in the flesh.

Jim stared back, anticipation and confusion bright in his blue eyes.

Holding eye contact, Leonard raised his communicator and called Jamie.

Jim’s communicator beeped. He flipped it open, pressed it to his ear, eyes still locked on his. “Hello?”

“Turns out Leonard isn’t that common of a name,” he said. “Not as common as yours anyway.”

Jim laughed. He laughed and for the first time in ages the humor fully reached his eyes. “I — I wanted it to be you. I wanted it so bad, but I just never thought that…”

“That what?”

“That the universe would be that good to me, I guess.”

“Jim, what are you talking about? It’s not like I’m some great catch. It’s not anyone is dying to have me, like so many want you.”

“They can want me all they want, all I ever wanted was you.”

Those were the words he never thought he would hear, from anyone, even his soulmate if such a thing had ever existed for him.

Predestined or not, Jim was the only one for him as a best friend, a brother-in-arms, a captain and a partner in any sense of the word, and if this was real, if he was his James —

— Even if he wasn’t his James, he was his Jim Kirk, and there was only one of those.

He ended the call and cupped the back of Jim’s neck, bringing their foreheads together.

“Is this real?” Jim asked.

“As real as space dementia.”

“Real poetic, aren’t you?”

“It’s as good as I get.”

“I know, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He held Jim’s wrist, pressing his thumb over the Mark. “As long as you’ll have me.”

Jim mirrored his hold on his own wrist. “Always.”

Space may have been uncharted depths of unknown death and disease, but the universe — or whatever fate went by — it wasn’t so bad.

After all, it finally led them both here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me here on [**Tumblr**](http://lucyclairedelune.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to comment! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧


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